The days are as indecisive and moody as I am: flippantly switching from sun, cloud, rain, hail, sun, gloom, sun. My greengrocer told me it is no wonder I am sick with all this dilly-dallying of the weather! With this, he gave me a lychee: I need vitamins at times like these. I felt guilty for being an inconsistent client, for cheating on him with the other épiceries in the quartier, with the produce at the grocery store, too.
It is from the grocery stores that I steal apples, eating them leisurely as I pay for the rest of the unstolen merchendise. I have never been caught. Last month, I had every intention of paying for my Pink Lady, but the old man at the alimentation around the corner was sleeping to the piano music playing loudly from the portable radio perched on the counter. I thought it best not to wake him; he would miss his sleep more than he would miss my apple.
The sun then turned to rain; I pulled my collar up and sank back into the awkward comfort of a nebulous mood. Equinox, equinox, equinox, hammered into the patterns of the rains.
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